School’s out for Summer. Down here it’s the signal for the holiday lets to be fully booked; and children’s voices ring out; as they excitedly gather buckets, spades, and body boards for days on the beach. I’ve been wanting to include this poem in the blog for a while. It was written sometime in the late seventies to eighties.
HOW?
How can I make my kids see
That this grouser is not the real me
Though I grumble and swear
At the sand in their hair
At the mud on their feet
At the toys on the chair
At the regular beat of their steps on the stair
Will they know as I scream and I shout
That I don’t mean to push them about
But the paint on the floor
That has spread to the door
Is a drag to remove
And an unwelcome chore
So I moan, but I know that to them it’s a bore!
If I could ignore for a week
Their casual thoughtless kids’ cheek
I would see with their eyes
All the constant surprise
That life springs for youth
And I could not disguise
That for me it’s their life that’s the joyful surprise
The decision that my hubby and I made, back in the seventies, to move to rural Wales was, in my opinion, the best thing we ever did for the upbringing of our three fantastic kids; especially during the school holidays. I have told you, many times before, of the wild open spaces that our children had access to; the forest and fields, the stream in the valley; and the freedom to explore and learn about nature.
School holidays were the time for adventure. Armed with bottles of squash and sandwiches, they would venture into the pine forest, or down to the stream to swim. On starry nights they would lie out in the fields, regarding the night sky with wonder. The winter months found them, and school friends from the village, tobogganing down our snowy fields on plastic sacks stuffed with straw; with the forestry boundary fence acting as a natural crash barrier.
Many years later they would delight in telling me about some of the scary projects that were undertaken; thankfully without our knowledge. Examples were the ‘man traps’ they dug in the woods; one of which my hubby ‘discovered’ on a night walk. Or the rope they tied onto an overhanging branch of the small stream; for abseiling into the deep pool below.
Luckily, none of these adventures resulted in any physical damage; rather increasing independent attitudes, and resilience to adversity. They grew up with a ‘can do’ philosophy, which I like to think, held them in good stead for sorting problems in their adult lives.
Now, I wonder if they are the near last generation of kids to enjoy this untrammelled freedom of expression. All we hear of, on social media, are stories of children’s anxiety levels, and fears for their safety when venturing out of their very limited boundaries. Very few seem to have the chance to explore our world; and develop the mental armour to face the many challenges that are becoming increasingly apparent, day by day.
But, young adults, all over the globe, are having to face the glaring reality of the wasteful selfish actions of previous generations; culminating in fire and flood, famine and war. I hope that they will discover, and utilize, that human instinct to adapt and overcome adversity. The survival of our world depends on them.
That took me back half a century! I am sure we are forgiven for our grumpy outbursts.
School holidays can be trying!
But what lovely opportunities our kids had.
Not sure what resilience and independence the current generation of youngsters are able to learn from the ever present screens.
Yes, we proved that kids don’t need loads of gadgets or cash to learn about dealing with whatever is coming down the road; which is lucky, because we didn’t have any! (cash or gadgets that is)
A beautiful and evocative poem.
A lovely read Jackie and took me back to my childhood. We were up and out early and came home when the street lights went on. All day making dens, mud pies, ball games, hide n seek. We were inner city kids but the large park at the end of the road had plenty to keep us busy.